To The Stars, One Last Time
Smelting Pools - Kolkular - Kaon A place of true nightmares, the Smelting Pools are filled with distant screams of agony as the Decepticons execute the prisoners of war, unruly soldiers deserving of punishment, or mechs they just don't like. A blinding molten fluid froths below in steep, squarish pits lined with the claw marks of desperately grasping hands. There are numerous menacing guards that patrol the catwalks between the pits, all too eager to shoot down any mech that climbs too far, and across from them is what seems to be a processing warehouse. The melted metal gleaned from the pools is formed into ingots, and these once-mechs are all piled up in neat clusters, awaiting shipment. This particular cycle, Blast Off's 'secret' neutral girlfriend, Protea Four, recently contacted him on his private hailing frequency and told him to meet her at Kaon. One of the Combaticon's favorite places, or so she has learned, thanks to the Opera House! It reads: <<"Dearest Blast Off, I've been practicing with that blaster you gave me, and I'd really love to show you how far I've come! Meet me at Kaon, I think you'll be pleased. Love, P4." (insert Cybertronian equivalent of XOXOXOXOXO)>> Blast Off arrives near the Kaon Opera House, wearing his finest ascot. He's made sure he looks his most polished and well-groomed, and the browns and purples of his metal almost gleam. Standing confidently near the grand old building, he looks for Protea Four. He's been quite pleased to hear Protea is practicing with that laser rifle... she'll need it with the likes of Buzzsaw -and who knows who else?- who might be unhappy with her- and him. But HE's on her side, so... she has nothing to fear, obviously. Blast Off is confident in his ability to handle anything life throws at him. Protea is waiting near the entrance to the Opera House, carrying that rifle he had given her. She grins and prances up to him, immediately complimenting his looks. "Oh, Blast Off! You look absolutely stunning!" she giggles. "You didn't have to do that for me, you know..." Blast Off likes this... a lot. More than he'd expect, even. But he keeps his usual calm and aloof demeanor, simply nodding courteously to the femme. "Thank you, Protea. Well..." He shrugs. "I like to look my best, and take pride in my appearance." He adds, "I am... pleased to be here. And... you..." Protea Four looks stunning herself, but... Blast Off is not used to GIVING compliments. "You..." He finally says, "I am pleased you are here, and that you have been practicing with the rifle." Protea nods happily. Yes, she is very beautiful just naturally, even without any polish or anything. Her looks were what got her the job of actress back in the day, you know. "Oh, I always admired that about you," she says softly, then holds up the rifle at his mention of her practicing. "Well, yes! Speaking of which, I was going to show you how far I've come! I know I couldn't ever hope to be as good as you, but I think I've made some improvements! Come on, I'll show you what I've been shooting at, it's by the smelting pools." She tugs lightly on his arm, and starts off in the direction of an elevator that would take one to the balconies above the pools. Blast Off looks very pleased at Protea's flattery, naturally. Then she mentions ... the smelting pools? Why on Cybertron would she be target practicing at the smelting pools? Ok, maybe the sounds of screaming could mask her shooting...but.... The Combaticon stands there a moment, but eventually relents as Protea tugs at his arm. He follows, but... looking a little confused. "Why the ...smelting pools? I can think of many better target ranges..." "I don't know about you, but I just think it's so pretty up there! It's like looking out over a glowing golden pool!" Protea says excitedly as they enter the elevator. "And it's almost always empty on the top balcony, so it's nice and quiet. You like that, don't you?" The elevator starts to move up, up and up to the top tier of platforms. During their ascent to the top, Protea and Blast Off may hear the faint tick of metal on metal against the outside of the elevator car. It's probably nothing, though. Maybe just the gears making strange sounds. Blast Off hesitates a moment more... but this *is* Protea, and he's cleared her of anything at all suspicious, right? Yet somehow that elevator suddenly seems far more claustrophobic than usual... Pausing one more moment, the Combaticon finally makes a decision and steps inside. This does seem... odd to him. He looks over at the smiling femme, and wonders, not for the first time, if she's up to something. But... if she is? Wouldn't it be better to know? If Blurr shows up again out of the blue, Blast Off is unlikely to believe it's a "coincidence". And Blast Off can handle Blurr! Easy! He proved that in Crystal City. But surely this is all just him being suspicious, anyway. Protea is totally into him, obviously, and just wants to show off some shooting skills. He'll be quite pleased to see her progress. Maybe even... proud? He hears a strange noise, but.... there are a lot of strange noises in this place. "I... guess. The contents down below don't disturb you? This is a place even *I* am not particularly fond of..." "Er...well..." Protea shifts a bit uncomfortably. "Yeah, but...I just don't think about it, you know? And when I'm way up there, I don't have to see them. I just see the glowing pools. Not like I can do anything about it anyway..." she mumbles, obviously not wanting to talk about that, any more. She pouts a little, looking concerned when Blast Off appears slightly uneasy. "Hey," she says softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about Blurr. He...is in no shape to try anything right now. At least, the last time I saw him, anyway." The elevator doors open, and she steps out onto the top balcony overlooking the smelting pools. It really is kind of pretty up there, in its own way. The fembot doesn't notice the strange little noises on the side of the elevator at all. There are quite a few other sounds in the background, anyway. Blast Off thinks Protea's reaction is a bit odd, but... lets himself be distracted by the hand on his shoulder. Then sighs. So Blurr is alive. Figures. He looks out onto the balcony, and does make sure to look all around before stepping out. But nothing's there... apparently. He follows Protea onto the balcony, and gazes down towards the pools. "Well, I suppose they have their own beauty.... from a distance, at least." Then he gazes at Protea. "So... you have been practicing then? I look forward to seeing your progress." Protea nods vigorously. "Yes, yes. From a distance!" Then she holds up the rifle and nods again. "Yeah!" She points down at the pools, to a medium-sized rock or perhaps a piece of metal debris floating near the center of one of them. It's a fairly tough shot--surely not something Blast Off wouldn't be able to easily nail himself, but since it's sitting in the hot fluids, bobbing up and down and not really staying in the exact same place all the time, it's somewhat of an -intermediate- target. "See that? I've been shooting at the big pieces from up here." She takes careful aim, trying to remember all the things the Combaticon had taught her, and she fires, hitting the debris dead in the center and blowing it half! Blast Off watches her as she aims, appraising her form...NO NOT LIKE THAT... ahem... shooting form... and circuit calming techniques. He likes what he sees. There are a million areas for improvement, of course, but not everyone can shoot as magnificently as he, after all! The Combaticon does move in to ..almost.. touch her shoulder. "Hold it in a little closer to you... there you go..." Protea shoots- and it's a good shot! Blast Off finds himself... actually smiling just a little. Not that anyone would really know under that faceplate, of course. "Excellent! I can see you've been improving. I am..." He pauses a moment, then goes ahead and says it. "I... am proud of you, Protea." Protea looks...so thrilled. She beams up at Blast Off. "Oh, thank you!" she says softly. "I've been enjoying it, actually! I'm starting to see why you love it so much...." She subspaces the blaster again, and straightens up, gazing into his optics for a loooong, quiet moment. Then, the moment is broken when her optics widen and she suddenly looks a bit frantic, her voice lowering. "Blast Off--quick, stay close to me!" Blast Off finds that even he is sharing a little bit in her excitement. He doesn't show it in obvious ways, of course, but Protea may have spent enough time to know his more subtle mannerisms by now. He leans in a little bit, and returns the gaze without any of his previous fluster. His hand almost starts to reach up and touch her arm.... when suddenly Protea looks terrified. The Combaticon blinks, straightening up in confusion and looking at her incredulously. He asks quietly, "What? ...What's wrong?" He starts looking around, and his hand moves down, ready to get his blaster out of subspace. "Blast Off! I-I said---!" Alas, but it's too late! So much for Blurr being in no shape to try anything. As soon as she's spoken those words, a small cloaked hover transport suddenly appears just above the platform. And who should be standing on it but the Autobot courier himself. No sooner had this happened, than a shot is fired at close range, slamming into the Combaticon's chest and sending him reeling backward--crashing through the low-lying rails and over the edge of the balcony! Now the shot itself isn't a deadly one, it's actually just that electro-laser he has, that doesn't actually do any real damage, but simply paralyzes its victim for a breem or so...but that's the catch, isn't it? If Blast Off can't move, he can't fly away...can't avoid death by the smelting pools below, which will certainly rush up to meet him before the effects of the weapon wear off... Protea, immediately realizing what's happened, dives toward him, desperately grasping for any part of his body. She succeeds in grabbing him but he's too heavy for her, and he ends up dragging her down with him! And now the two of them plummet to their deaths, that is, unless someone intervenes. Though that someone is likely to only save ONE of them, not both. Besides, is it even possible...? Blast Off looks up and...WHAT? Before the Combaticon can bring forth his blaster, Blurr's already shot him with that accursed stun gun of his. The impact sends him backwards, where he frantically tries to grab at the railing... but circuits and servos are not responding properly anymore. His optics go pale violet as he tries desperately not to fall, to fly away, to do anything... but nothing responds. He only has time to give Blurr -and then Protea- one startled look before finally toppling over the edge. Protea betrayed him... there's no question now. And suddenly his life is flashing before his optics. What will his team do with out him? They need him. He... needs them. He always accepted that they might die in combat... but at least it'd be together. Not... just him. Alone. And then... Protea grabs his leg, and for a moment they're both hanging there in the space between life and death. He somehow manages to look at her and rasp out, "...Why?" Then his weight pulls them both down, and Blast Off's last thought is to look upwards...towards the stars he realizes he's never going to see again. ".../No/." Blast Off's life plays back before his optics, the voices of those around him as well as his own all blending together in a strangely ethereal experience... "Pull back, I can't maintain this speed...You got it Blast Off!" "Tch! If you were smart, Decepti-slag, you'd be getting the frag out of here as fast as your engines could take you. Just face it, you've lost this time!" "Gah! WHO's THE IDIOT, you fool?!? With your generally poor aim you'll blow this place up!!" "Oh! You are *totally* correct! Where ARE my manners? I have been so rattled by all these odd occurances I have *completely* forgotten how to be a gentlemech.... "My name is Blast Off. It is a pleasure to meet you...." "You're so fragile you know that? Physically AND emotionally. Just look at you, shooting at me over some vintage drinks!"..... .... ... .. That ship wasn't expected and certainly throws a wrench into the works. Ah well, luckily Blast Off has at least someone looking out for him. A flash of poison yellow optics lights up in the shadows of the building as the two plummet to their doom and a figure swiftly follows, rocketing off its perch towards them with the heavy buzz of wings. But in the glow of the smelting pools they fall towards, the figure would soon be revealed to be.. Scorn! Swooping from up high she quickly reaches them, grabbing on tight to Blast Off, but not pulling up just yet. Instead she smirks at the two of them and snorts. "I swear, Blast Off, you have horrible taste in femmes. You must have a thing for traitors." And yes, she was speaking of herself as well. Turning to Protea next, however, gets her a nasty scowl and a steeled glare as a hand shoots out to grasp her neck and tilt it to face her. "As for you.. No one messes with my quarry." With that said, her mouth suddenly splits open in that nightmarish fashion, the mantis screeching hungrily and biting down into Protea's arm and gives a twist to sever it and make her let go. Scorn then breaks out in a nasty, ghoulish grin dripping with energon. "Give my regards to those in The Pit when you get there." A soft cackle follows along with her foot, kicking Protea away. Now that all that dead weight is gone, she kicks her wings into power, grunting as their descent slows until they finally halt and hover midair. "Tch, good riddance." Scorn mutters, tightening her grip on the mech in her arms and turning to alight on a stable platform. Protea cries out in pain when Scorn bites down on her arm, and energon spews out of the wound. Her armor is definitely no match for the Insecticon, and her arm is easily torn from its socket. It falls, splashing into the hot liquid below before she herself is kicked away, and lands in the pool of death. She's...somewhat fortunate, though. If you could even call it that. When Scorn kicked her away, she happened to take a trajectory toward the edge of the pools, and manages to crawl out, not dead but only barely alive. She collapses, her feeble body halfway disintegrated and stained in her own fuel and fluids. "...B-blast Off....I-I'm sorry..." she manages to whisper. Will Blast Off let her die alone? But perhaps she deserves it... Blast Off suddenly finds.... Scorn has come to his rescue? This whole experience is just getting stranger and stranger...but at least it means he's not dead yet. The firey furnace of the smelting pools bubbles and pops below....but gets no closer. He can feel the heat as Scorn hovers there, holding them... even his heat shields can't save him from what boils below. With difficulty, he turns to look at the Insecticon femme, then optics widen again as her mouth suddenly splits open. He's never seen... that particular side of her before. He's... not sure he wanted to, either. And then she savagely wrenches Protea away, causing her to fall. Despite everything, Blast Off might even try to prevent that. He wants to know WHY. Before anything else. But he's still stunned, and unable to do much besides twitch some. "Scorn... why are... why are you here? Don't..." But too late, Protea is gone. Scorn flies them to a stable location, where the Combaticon collapses on the floor, trying to move but without much success... the stun still in effect. It doesn't usually go away until one is attacked again- or some other sort of shock occurs to reverse the effect. "Slag it..." He gasps... "Slag it /all/..... Where...is Protea?...Where's...Blurr? I. can't. move..." He's going from shocked to horrified to angry and frustrated at his helplessness... Despite thir previous misgivings, Scorn still sets Blast Off down gently when they're on the platform, though she isn't gentle for much longer when kneeling beside him. A curt smile curls her lips when leaning over the mech, holding him fast by the collar and pulling back a hand. "Apologies for this, darling, but you'll feel better. Trust me." With that she lashes out and backhands him hard across the face to snap him out of his stun. She may be built slender, but boy can she hit hard! Afterwards Scorn releases him and leans over the edge of their perch, pursing lips faintly and musing with a soft hum. "Hm.. Over there, at the edge of the pool. Oh dear, she doesn't look too good." A wicked grin. "Shall I go down and finish her off? Doesn't look like she'll last much longer, so might as well put her out of her misery." Blast Off watches as Scorn gets close and pulls him up and... wait, what's she doing with?... "Wait, Scorn.. don't... don't you dare-" Too late. Again. SMACK. "OWWW!" Yes, despite everything, he has time to complain. He must be feeling better. Huffing loudly- at Scorn, at... EVERYTHING... the Combaticon jumps back up, bringing his ionic blaster from subspace and looking all around sharply for Protea... and Blurr. Though there is the slightest pause, and he glances back to Scorn. She just saved his life. That's good.... aaaand that's bad. Mainly because he's now in her debt, isn't he? And he has a feeling... she'll come to collect. But his arch-enemy just tried to kill him, and NEARLY DID SO, and is still around here somewhere. Cloaked? And... Protea?... where?... Scorn describes her predicament and he immediately looks over. And stops. Protea's... alive, but barely. And Blast Off isn't sure... what to think. "No, Scorn.... leave her to me." And he heads towards her, while keeping an optic out for Blurr, who he expects to reappear anytime now. Ah, who knows where Blurr is? He's nowhere to be seen, but now that Scorn has arrived, he's probably not likely to show his face. As for Protea, she lies dying on a ledge near the pools, all of her energon gushing freely from her body. She looks weakly up at him. "...I-I'm sorry, B-blast Off...th-this is all my fault...I--" she half-sobs, half-chokes, "--tried to save you...I thought I could--Blurr...he...I suspected he was up to something more than what he said he w-was...b-but...he was paying me so well--I-I wanted to give him the benefit of the d-doubt...a-and...I thought I could s-save you....I thought he w-wouldn't...I-I'm such a g-glitch...so stupid...selfish..." But then she smiles a little bit, as much as she can. "B-but...I'm glad you have...friends...w-who come through for you..." she glances over at Scorn. "Y-you don't...need me...anymore..." As soon as she's finished saying this, her optics flicker and go out. She's gone. "Be my guest." Scorn says softly, allowing Blast Off to move ahead while she follows. She doesn't approach the dying femme, though, prefering to stay a few paces away. Honestly, she has no idea how the deep the relationship ran with these two, if at all, so it's hard for her to feel anything while witnessing Protea's last words. ..Well, that's not true. She feels quite pleased to watch her die, that much is certain, though she's careful not to show it and instead puts on a stonefaced expression. When Protea finally succumbs to her wounds, Scorn remains quiet for a few moments until she finally speaks up. "What now?" Leave her? Kick her in? Scorn is all for the latter. Blast Off walks up and is about to ask Why... when Protea confesses everything. He gazes down at her, torn between disgust... and... is this called dispair? The standoffish Combaticon is used to a lot of things in war... loss, anger, hurt, destruction... but is not as familiar- or at least comfortable with showing- things like caring, true friendship... or even love. He leans in, finally kneeling next to her as she speaks her last words. He's never really shown affection before, and finds himself unable to do so now. Especially given the circumstances, and with Scorn standing right there. He doesn't have any words to give. Though as he watches her die, for once... he finds he wishes he did. He stares at her corpse for a long moment, until Scorn makes a comment. Slowly, he turns to look at her, and his expression is as distant and remote as it ever has been. Sensing Scorn's inclination, he moves to pick up what's left of Protea, and keep it from burning in these Hellish pits. His voice is completely flat. "I... will deal with her." As Protea's spark fades, and her fuel pump cycles its last, her subspace compartments are automatically purged, and a couple of items are dumped back out onto the ground. The first is the rifle he had given her; the second is what appears to be a small, perfectly round stone--a rare mineral found only on the dark and distant planet of Nocturous III. Upon it is inscribed a note from the femme. It reads: Blast Off--'' ''You are you...not your teammates, not your faction...not your enemies or even your friends....Always remember who YOU are...don't let THEM define you... May your aim be ever true. Oh, and love you lots! <3 ''-Protea Four'' If he were to examine the stone more closely though, he would find that there is a button on the back, and that it is actually a personal shield generator, much like the one that had saved him back on Leader-1. It's a good thing Scorn can't read what's on there, or she'd probably gag. ..She.. isn't very good when it comes to emotional stuff, it seems. Case in point now when Blast Off decides to take care of Protea on his own, to which he just gets a faint sniff. "Fine, do what you must. But I'd like to get out of here soon before that ship comes back." Folding hands behind her back now, Scorn leaves Blast Off to his business, her demeanor somewhat cold and distant while stepping a ways away to turn her back to him and keep watch. Blast Off picks up the rifle, look at it, and places it aside. Then he holds the stone, noting its beauty, and reads the inscription... and just stares at it awhile. A long while. He finally flips it over, and sees it's a shield generator, and then just stares at that for awhile. Scorn comments and turns away, and Blast Off finally comes back to reality. That is right... Blurr is still around, and could attack again. The shuttleformer looks up. He should be furious, raring to go find Blurr and destroy him for what he did. /Especially/ for this. And... in time, he may well be. But right now... he just feels numb. But there's a war going on, and Blast Off has lived through another day of it... and must continue trying to. Very quietly and subdued, he places Protea's belongings inside his own subspace compartment, then hefts her up. Even with his weak overall strength, what's left of her isn't very heavy for him to carry. Standing now, he holds Protea and takes a slightly unsteady step away from the pool. Then another, slightly more sure. Finally, he pauses and turns to look at Scorn. Quietly, he says, "...Thank you for saving my life." She saved him, she didn't save Protea... but he knows he couldn't expect her to. Blurr is nowhere to be seen, but he is still around...still standing on top of the hover transport where he had been before, though the cloaking field as been reactivated. Frozen to the spot as he watches what unfolds below. He's....shocked, grieved, and...well there just aren't enough words in the Cybertronian language to describe this. He NEVER thought she'd become so devoted to him...nor had he ever dreamed Blast Off would ever become that devoted to her. In fact, he had been fully expecting the Combaticon to simply act cold and aloof as he usually does, and dump her body into the smelting pools where whatever's left of her could be recycled. To at least act as if he didn't care at all, regardless of how he really felt. But this...this wasn't that at all. Somehow, it just...he can't believe it. And he can't believe Protea is dead now, and that she has in fact died by his own hand. Unable to continue his assault against Blast Off and try to salvage his failed assassination attempt, he tears away from the scene, anguished, almost hoping that if he stops staring at it soon enough, he might forget it altogether. It's stupid, though...who could ever forget something like this? No one... "You're welcome." Scorn replies softly, not turning around just yet. "You're lucky I was following you. ..I can't say it was for the best reasons, of course, but lucky none the less. We'll speak of it later, though. For now.." She back over her shoulder, critically eyeing him and the corpse he carries. "It wouldn't do any good to bring her with us. I'd suggest setting her back in the smelting pit." A moment passes before she adds, "Or giving her something more proper, but you'll have to do that on your own. If you want me to stay, say so. If not then I'll be taking my leave back to the hive. When you get the time I'd like you to visit me. We have.. things to discuss." Blast Off gazes back at Scorn, his expression and demeanor still flat. And for once, there's no bluster or ego getting in the way. He just nods. "Yes, I was. It doesn't matter why you were... I am... simply glad you were there." His look hardens a bit at the suggestion of throwing Protea back to the smelting pit, then returns to the flat, aloof state. "No. I will..." He looks skywards. "...I will take her... to the stars one last time... and find a proper resting place there." He steps away. "I will... visit you soon. But first I..." He looks down at what's left of Protea, and begins heading towards the elevator- and towards the wide open sky above Kaon. "...I want to be alone." Scorn doesn't say anything else as Blast Off moves off to do what he must. Once he's out of earshot, however, she sighs heavily and pinches the bridge between her optics. "Primus, what a mess. Going to be a lovely coversation when he comes to see me." Scorn just shakes her head after and snaps wings open, fluttering off into the sky and heading towards her base. Thankfully she gets to deal with this later instead of now. Blast Off does as he said, and takes Protea on one last trip to the stars. Since she did really seem to love them, and he can't think of a better place to leave her- to spend eternity in the embrace of the cosmos itself.